


Dollar Days

by flibbertygigget



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Eating Disorders?, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Ever since he could remember, Rick had needed sex.





	Dollar Days

Morty knew that Rick was thin. It was a fact, like Summer being a little crazy and his parents fighting. Even though Rick always seemed to be consuming, eating his Mom’s cooking and drinking hard liquor and shoving strange alien cuisine in his mouth every chance he got, his grandfather constantly seemed to be on the edge of underweight. Maybe it was all the running from the Federation Police that did it, or maybe it was just good genes. If it was the latter, Morty sure hadn’t inherited it.

Morty wasn’t a genius, not like Rick. Maybe that was why it took him so long to realize what kept Rick so thin: the fact that he didn’t need to consume anything at all. Or, at least, he didn’t have to consume in the conventional sense.

Rick was an incubus.

* * *

Ever since he could remember, Rick had needed sex.

It wasn’t in the normal, boring way that people “need” sex. That was just hormones, just hormones and animalistic urges that could be just as easily solved with a hand or a vibrator as with another human being. No, Rick needed sex the way other people needed food, needed water, needed _air_.  Guys, girls, aliens, it didn’t matter. He just needed someone to fuck.

And that was all it ever was. Oh, he could try to do the whole relationship thing, but inevitably his SO would find out and freak, or they’d insist on being the only one he fucked, and he’d have to call it off once again. The closest he’d ever gotten to _functional_ was with Unity, and _that_ relationship failed for completely different reasons.

Moving in with Beth was… difficult. Different. It was harder to slip away, to find a fuck, and he couldn’t stand dumping all this on her doorstep along with the rest of his baggage. He should have never come, but he needed Morty like shelter, and he needed the Smith family (sans Jerry, of course) like most people needed sex.

People, normal people, were willing to do fucking stupid things for sex. They paid for the privilege. They lied to get more of it. They starved just to have a chance for a taste.

And, yeah, maybe Rick’s just as much of an idiot as any of those normal people, because he’s willing to starve to stay with Beth and Summer and Morty. He can’t stop himself.

* * *

“Why don’t you get a girlfriend?” Morty asks Rick. They’re on their way back from some adventure, and Rick is drunker than usual. More importantly, his face is waxy and pale and stretched, like a candle that’s been lit too long, sputtering and drowning in its own wax. He’s more hungry than usual, and Morty doesn’t know how to help.

“W-W-What the fu-uRp-ck would I want a-a-a girl for, M-Morty?” Rick slurs, sloshing liquor over onto Morty’s lap. “Y-You think I’m a – I’m a lonely old man, is that i-it, Morty?”

“N-No!” Morty says quickly. “I-I just thought that – that you’d find it easier if you had someone, that’s all. You wouldn’t have to, you know…” Rick’s eyes narrow, and Morty can see him putting the pieces together through the alcohol-induced haze. Not that the pieces really needed to be put together. Morty had more or less laid them right out in front of him.

“W-What’re you saying? You callin’ – You callin’ me a-a-“ Rick gestures wildly, flinging more liquor around the tiny spacecraft. Morty ducks, but he can’t dodge it all. Gross.

“Jeez, Rick, I-I was just trying to help, you know? I don’t w-want you to be hurt or anything.” Rick pauses, and Morty knows he’s struck a nerve, or at least struck _something_.

“I-I don’t need a _girlfriend_ , Morty, Jesus. Y-you really don’t know the first thing about – about me, do ya? I-I’m not like you, I’m not some pa-pathetic little shit who needs a girlfriend to feel like a-a real man. Y-You don’t have to worry about your grandpa. I’ve got it allll under control, Morty.”

“No you don’t,” Morty mumbles to himself, but he lets the matter rest for now. Rick had, presumably, been dealing with his shit for a while. Morty wouldn’t push, not when the idea of actually talking about sex made him break into a nervous sweat. Rick would be fine. He could take care of himself.

* * *

“W-What the fuck, Rick? I thought you could take care of yourself!” Rick groans and opens his eyes, only to find that he’s looking at the ceiling of his spaceship. What? He’d passed out drunk before, of course, but he was only on his second flask that day, and they had been running from some Federation goons. He usually has better timing than that.

“Wha…” Rick tries to sit up, but Morty pushes him back down.

“No way, Rick. You – You’re not getting up u-until you tell me what’s going on.” Rick grits his teeth, and Morty glares at him. “How long has it been since you had sex?” Rick’s going to throw up. He honestly feels like he’s going to throw up.

“You – You know? You little-“

“Yeah, I know, Rick. I-It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Now can you give - give me a straight answer? I-Is that too much to ask?”

“Th-That’s none of your business, Morty-“

“Fuck you.” Rick blinks. “Y-You could’ve died, Rick. Those guys were chasing us, and I had to drag your body into a cleaning closet because y-you couldn’t get laid.”

“Hey, I can get laid,” Rick snaps.

“W-Well, then, why didn’t you? Why d-did you n-not – Th-This isn’t optional, Rick. Y-You can’t just-“ Tears are on Morty’s cheeks, and his hands are shaking on the steering wheel. “You could’ve died, Rick, and then where would that l-leave me?” Rick grimaces, but Morty has a point. Not that Rick will let the kid know that.

“Where the hell are we going?” he mutters instead, looking out at the stars.

“I-I had the computer look up the nearest broth – whor – place where you can g-get some sex.” Rick opens his mouth. “No, shut up, you’re gonna get laid. I’m – I’ll make sure you get laid even if I have to sit in the room with you. A-And that would be really, really awkward, Rick, so could you please j-just do this for me?”

“Fine, whatever.” True to his word, Morty drags Rick in, pays the chick, and watches him way too closely on the way back to Earth. Rick tries to ignore him.

* * *

It becomes a _thing_ after that night. Morty doesn’t mind, honestly. The fact that Rick is finally looking more solid more than makes up for the extreme awkwardness of always having to hang out in the “hotel” lobbies while his grandfather has sex. And, even if they never do discuss it out loud, Morty can tell that Rick’s attitude towards him is shifting. With Morty being better at taking care of Rick than Rick is, it isn’t difficult for him to view Morty as an adult, an equal, and Morty loves that. They’re doing as well as they’ve ever done, better in fact.

Then they get captured by some stupid space smugglers. Fuck.

It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were just normal, run of the mill space smugglers, but no, these guys had to be specialists. And their specialty just so happened to be smuggling slaves for some middle-of-nowhere scumbag planets. So, while Rick could have probably have gotten them out easily if the smugglers were transporting drugs or something, even he can’t do much about a cell designed to keep a Schoutian secure.

Morty sighs. At least they’re in the same cell.

The first week, he isn’t worried. Something will happen, the smugglers will slip up or Rick will find a way past the cell door and they’ll be able to escape. The second week, Morty is constantly watching the door and Rick, hoping that something will give. The third week, Morty knows that Rick’s too weak to help them. He also knows that having sex will give Rick a temporary boost of energy that would probably be able to get them out.

It’s an easy decision for Morty to make. Now all he has to do is get Rick on board with it.

“Rick?” he says one evening. Or, at least he thinks it’s evening. Time’s hard to place when you’re in a tiny cell in the middle of space.

“Y-Yeah, M-Morty?”

“You, you know, you don’t look very good.” Rick rolls his eyes.

“Gee, th-thanks, Morty. Y-You really know how to – how to compliment a guy.”

“What I’m saying is that you look like you’re about to die of starvation!” Morty almost yells. Well, so much for diplomacy. “L-Look, it’s not like we’re going to get out of here any time soon, you know? Not with you like – like this and with me not being able to break us out. We need to find you someone to fuck.”

“Oh, wow, Morty, what a – a great plan. Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, bu-but we’re the only ones in here, dipshit.” Morty opens his mouth, but Rick seems to suddenly understand what Morty’s getting at. “Oh, fuck, no. No way.”

“Look, Rick, i-it’s not like we have many options here.”

“There’s no fucking way – That’s disgusting, M-Morty, how could you even-“

“Rick, either you waste away and I get sold to some – some alien asshole who’ll do who knows what to me,” Rick flinches, and Morty knows he’s hit a nerve, “or you – you have sex with me. N-now, I know what I would rather have h-happen.”

“I’ll find a – a way out of this, Morty. For fuck’s sake-“

“Rick, I’m fine with it.”

“Your hands are fucking shaking, Morty.” Morty looks down and sees that Rick’s right. He tries to stop it, but that only makes the shaking worse. Morty’s silent for a moment, trying to regain control of the situation. Then he scoots himself across the cell until he’s almost on top of Rick. “Morty, wh-what the fuck? You can’t-“

“Look, Rick, th-this is the only way.” Morty kisses his grandfather, and it’s unpracticed and sloppy but he can feel the older man giving way. That might be an incubus thing, Morty doesn’t know, but he’s glad that Rick isn’t physically fighting him. “I-I want this, I promise.”

“Fuck…” Rick whispers, almost whimpers. Morty wants to believe that he can see it, can see the exact moment Rick ceases to be _Rick_ and instead turns himself over to the instincts of an incubus. Rick flips him over, straddling Morty and pressing him down so there’s no chance of him getting away. Morty can feel Rick’s erection through his pants, and he gulps. He’s never been fucked before, and in Rick’s hunger-addled state the incubus will hardly be gentle.

“Rick-“ Morty cuts himself off with a low whine as Rick’s hand plunges into his pants, long fingers wrapping around his dick. It’s rough, almost painful, but Morty’s a teenager. He can get off on pretty much anything. Rick gives a low, approving grunt before letting go of Morty’s dick and yanking the teen’s pants and underwear down around his knees.

Morty sucks in a deep breath, but that isn’t nearly enough. Rick’s pushing into him, panting hard, and it _hurts_. He tries to remind himself that he’s doing this for Rick, that he _wants_ this, but he feels like he’s going to break. Rick pulls out, and Morty almost breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s pounding into him again. Morty screams as he feels something inside him tearing, and then, suddenly, it’s over. Rick comes inside him, shuddering and cursing, and Morty’s left feeling drained and slightly nauseous.

Suddenly Rick’s standing, towering over Morty. Morty looks up at him, the world spinning around him. Rick’s eyes are gleaming, and strength seems to coil tightly in every muscle. In that moment, overflowing with power, he looks like an ancient Greek’s idea of a god.

“Morty!” Rick says, and the illusion is broken. He just looks like Rick now, and Morty grins, his eyes drooping. “H-Hey, Morty, you’ve gotta stay with me-“

“’M tired, Rick,” Morty murmurs, exhaustion slurring his words. “I’ll jus’… I’ll jus’ sleep here now. You c’n get us out, right?”

“Of course, kid,” Rick says, and Morty grins even wider before letting himself slip into a deep sleep, or perhaps unconsciousness.

* * *

“Fuck no, absolutely not.” Morty’s looking at Rick from his place in the passenger seat of the ship, face shifting from happiness to confusion, but Rick can’t even look his grandson in the eye. “Morty, do you – do you even know how close I came to fucking you up big time? If you hadn’t – If I had taken even a minute longer, you might have fucking died!”

“Which is exactly why you should use me,” Morty says. “Y-You usually have more control than that. You could, you know, fuck me before you get to that point. You wouldn’t have to be hungry all the time.”

“Look, M-Morty, I don’t know what makes you think I would ever want to fuck your scrawny ass again-“

“Jeez, Rick-“

“-but I – I want to make one thing completely clear. I am never fucking you again. You – You’re my grandson, you’re fifteen, I have no fucking words for how fucked up you are for even suggesting this.”

“I’m not saying I want a – a relationship or whatever, I’m not stupid,” Morty says. “I’m just saying that, next time we get captured by some aliens, you – you might have more control if you fuck me when you’re still in control. I – I could be your last resort, that’s fine, but I – I can’t let you starve yourself to death by not having me as a resort.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen, Morty, so shut up.” For a moment Morty looks as though he’s about to continue arguing, and if he wants a fight Rick will fight, but eventually the teen settles on glaring out at the stars.

Rick doesn’t know, then, how easily Morty will go from a last resort to practically a pastime.

The first time he slips is when they’re stranded in space, and he needs to feed before he can even contemplate inventing a new fuel. He sucks Morty off and tries to pretend that that makes is better.

The second time he slips, they’re at the Citadel in Dimension X-135. No Rick would fuck another Rick that’s a known incubus, and he figures that at least his Morty knows what he’s getting into.

By the third time, he’s stopped even trying to make excuses. He’s sick, they’re sick, and he might as well admit it. He might as well take all he can get as long as Morty’s offering it.

* * *

It takes months for Morty to notice that something’s off.

At first, he was glad that Rick was finally getting over his bullshit and using Morty instead of the less reliable prostitutes and one night stands. Sure, all the sex (feeding, really, but Morty doesn’t like to think about it like that) is tiring, but Morty’s been tired for years, ever since Rick came crashing into his life. He can handle it.

Rick looks better, healthier. He’s no longer rail thin, teetering on the edge of underweight. His skin gets a natural, healthy pink to it, and he actually begins to develop a bit of a pudge around his waistline. Rick complains about it, naturally, mostly about how it slows him down, but Morty likes it.

(And if Morty is losing weight like Rick’s gaining it, well, he could stand to lose a few pounds. Rick’s always getting on his case about being too out of shape to run from aliens.)

But as the months wear on, Morty begins to wonder if it’s too much for him. He’s even more tired than before, practically passing out the moment he gets back home through the portals. His reactions are slowing, and he’s almost gotten them killed because of it. When he looks at himself in the mirror after showering, he can count his ribs.

And sex with Rick? It’s awful, making him headachy and nauseous for days afterwards. He still does it, of course he does, but he barely even feels enough to keep it up anymore. Still, what choice does he have? Either he keeps doing what he’s doing, or he lets things go back to how they were before. Morty’s no hero (Rick’s taught him well enough for him to know there are no heroes), but he’s no asshole either. He can’t let Rick go back to how he was before, barely surviving.

Still, Morty sometimes wonders how long it will be before he gives everything away and leaves Rick behind to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Rick isn’t stupid; he’s a genius in fact. He can create a spaceship out of a box of scraps. He can cross dimensions on a whim. But one thing he can’t do is figure out when he’s taking it all too far.

Unity had seen that in him, that broken, hedonistic selfishness that caused him to assimilate the assimilator, and Rick had been a fool to think that that same selfishness wouldn’t carry over into his little affair with Morty. He had thought that, since it was just sex, since Morty was his grandson, since neither of them needed to give a shit… but he’d been wrong. He’d been so wrong, thinking that Morty would be able to control him or that he would be able to control himself, and now Morty’s the one paying the price.

It’s just another night. That’s the most frightening part of all, actually. He’s not especially hungry and Morty’s not especially weak, which means that hurting Morty like this was simply the logical conclusion to everything.

Morty won’t wake up.

Rick’s tried everything: pouring water on him, slapping him, dumping him onto the cold concrete of the garage. Alright, fine, that last one hadn’t been intentional, but Rick had panicked. Hell, he’s still panicking, staring at the body on his floor as though, if he looks away, the faint rise and fall of the boy’s ribs will stop.

Morty has never looked younger or more vulnerable. Not even when he’d just started taking his grandson on adventures, when Morty was still an anxiety-ridden mess from his parents and his school and everything in between, had Rick thought there was anything he couldn’t protect him from. But now… Morty looks like a famine victim, all stick-out ribs and knobby-bone limbs and _God_ how had Rick not seen this, not stopped himself before it got to this point? How had Morty not pushed him away when he’d taken it too far, like he’d done a million times before?

The answer’s simple, Rick knows that. He’s always been a junkie. Alcohol, drugs, sex, it doesn’t matter. Once he starts a good thing, a thing that lets him forget all of his bullshit, he can’t let it go. He’d never been able to get to that point with Unity, and he’d left Diane when he felt himself getting in too deep, but with Morty…

When Morty finally begins to stir, hours later, Rick’s already long gone. Morty’s the exception to every rule for Rick, and he isn’t stupid enough to stay.

* * *

Morty has never been more angry in his life. Not when he thought was going to be blown up by those giant heads, not when Rick turned himself in to the Federation, not even when Rick had refused to look after himself. He’s seething, hands curled into fists and every molecule of him wanting to punch something, preferably the a-hole in front of him.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he is?” Morty snarls.

“Look, you know I don’t squatch around with Rick anymore, not since he cut me off,” says Squatchy with a shrug. “Honestly, if you don’t know where he is, than I’d say he’s gone for good.”

“L-Look, Squatchy, give me a break. Rick needed to have gone _somewhere_ , and the only place I can think of is with you. It’s not like he has any other friends or – or anything.”

“I dunno, have you squatched Unity? They were pretty hot and heavy for a while-“

“He’s banned from seeing it now. Granted, he made it lose control of itself, but still…”

“Well, then, I guess you’re out of luck, kid.” Squatchy gets up, downing the rest of his drink. Morty glares at him.

“You can’t just leave him! He’s – He’s out there, alone, a-and he needs us to-“

“Rick can take care of himself, believe me.” Squatchy’s expression softens slightly. “Look, kid, if – if you do find the old asshole, tell him to give me a call or whatever, alright? I don’t blame him for what happened at the Wedding, no matter what he thinks, and we have squatching to do.” Morty nods, but inside he’s already trying to figure out his next move will be.

As much as Morty hates to admit it, he’s more or less hit a dead end. When Rick wants to hide, he _hides_ , and since he’s, well, Rick, it isn’t like Morty even knows what dimension he’s in. And, yeah, Squatchy may have a point when he says that Rick can take care of himself in a jam, Morty knows that his grandpa is actually pretty awful at taking care of his own day to day needs. _That’s_ become Morty’s job, and he won’t leave Rick to fend for himself again. He can’t.

Still, there seems to be little he can do. All he can do is go back and just… wait, wait and hope that at some point Rick will come back home.

* * *

Rick’s a fucking idiot. He’s a fucking idiot and a fucking selfish bastard and a fucking terrible person overall and he knows it. If he had even a shred of human decency left in him, he would never go back to Beth’s, but he just can’t seem to pull away.

He tells himself that it’s just a small, secret visit, just enough to reassure himself that Beth and Summer and Morty are alive and happy. He’s a fucking liar and he knows it. One small secret visit will turn into two, then three, then before he knows it he’ll be in up to his neck again, struggling between what he wants and what Morty needs.

Still, he can’t help it. He sneaks into the house, up the stairs, and stops just outside Morty’s bedroom.

He can hear music, something harsh and discordant and distinctly _alien_ , floating through the crack beneath the door. Rick grins to himself, making a mental note to have Morty listen to some Flesh Curtains, and turns to leave, but then the singing starts. Morty’s singing along with the band, something high and lonely, crashing and banging to a crescendo like an empty garbage can being thrown down an alley. Rick can’t stop listening, straining to hear more clearly and understand, but it’s in some language that he’s never encountered. Suddenly, a few words of English slip through the cacophony.

“ _Love is careless in its choosing_.” Rick steps closer to the door, but Morty’s gone back to the alien language again. “ _Love descends on those defenseless. Idiot love will spark the fusion._ ” Rick’s practically pressed against the door now, something gasping and guttural making its way up his throat. “ _All I have is my love of love, and love is not loving_.”

All at once the music stops, and Rick is left panting at the door. For a long moment, everything is silent except for his breathing, and then he hears the bed creak as Morty gets up from it. Rick scrambles backwards, but there’s nowhere for him to go. He doesn’t think that he’d leave even if there was. The door opens, and then Morty’s _there_ , staring up at him as if he never left.

“Rick?” Morty says. “You’re – You’re here?” Rick slumps.

“L-Look, Morty, this was a mistake, this was all a mistake-“

“You’re damn right it was a mistake! You – You – You abandoned me! You just took off, a-a-and I didn’t know if you were – were dead or hurt or – or what!” Rick flinches.

“You don’t get it, Morty, I-I shouldn’t’ve started-“ Fucking him, but Rick can’t say that. It was more than fucking, more than sex, and that was where the real trouble had started. “I should’ve left long ago.”

“You’re an idiot, Rick.” Morty reaches out almost hesitantly before clinging to Rick’s lab coat, biting his bottom lip until it almost bleeds. “I-I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead, and it – it was all my fault.”

“Morty, Morty, it’s not your fault. I-I couldn’t – Jesus Christ, Morty, I almost killed you!”

“I don’t care!” Morty pulls Rick down and kisses him, and damn it Rick should pull away, should portal right out of there, but he won’t. He’s a selfish bastard through and through, he’ll admit it, and he can’t let Morty go. “I – I don’t care, I want you, I _love_ you. A-And even if you don’t want me like – like that, I still want to be around you. I still want to help you in the garage and go on adventures and watch Ball Fondlers and just-“ He breaks off, kissing Rick again. “I love you, no matter what happens to – to me.”

“Shit, Morty,” Rick says. “Look, I – I – I want you too, Jesus, but we – we’ve gotta be careful. I – I could hurt you again, I could kill you. So you have to promise me that – that if I take it too far again, you’ll tell me.”

“Of course, Rick. W-What, do you think I’m stupid or something?”

“Shut up, Morty,” Rick mutters before kissing Morty again, deeper this time, and Morty moans into his mouth.

Even as he revels at the way Morty seems to melt, Rick can’t help but hate himself. He’s lost control too many times before, and he knows Morty. Morty let him go on too long before, and so he knows can’t trust the teen to stop him before it’s too late. Rick can only hope that, when the time comes, he won’t lose control again.


End file.
